


One difficult kitty

by darkness173



Series: Pet AU [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Animal Traits, Kemonomimi, M/M, bottom!north italy, kitty!south italy, owner!north italy, top!south italy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2015-06-03
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:34:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4066936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkness173/pseuds/darkness173
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Feliciano loves his ex-stray kitten Lovi, but Lovi is making life difficult for him. Their complicated relationship continues to develop and eventually turns into something Feliciano does not know how to handle anymore. kitty!Lovino x Feliciano</p>
            </blockquote>





	One difficult kitty

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from my ff.net account. Very old.

**Helloo~**

**This fanfiction is one I should have uploaded a long time ago. It kind of belongs together with my other fanfiction "My new pet bunny" (a Ludwig x bunny!Gilbert fanfiction), but you don't need to have read it to understand this one.**

**Uhm... you may find this fanfiction disturbing: The "animals" in this fanfiction are actually human beings like us with characteristics like animal ears and tails. If you're still interested - go on! =D**

**Everything's written from Feliciano's point of view and yeah, there may be some mistakes as I'm not a native speaker of English. I hope it's not too bad.**

**I own nothing at all but the idea.**

**Rated M for later sexual themes.**

* * *

**One difficult kitty**

[kitty!Lovino x Feliciano]

The day my grandpa picked up Lovi off the street and took him to our house, was the day, I had to have a wound stitched up for the first time in my life.

The kitty was starved up and badly injured, almost to the point that my grandpa considered bringing him to the vet to have him be put to sleep. I begged him not to do it, to let me keep the poor animal as a pet instead. I promised to take care of him until he was fine again and my grandpa just smiled, patted my head and wished me good luck with my challenging mission. My grandpa never let me down, so in the end it was mostly him, who cleansed and bandaged up all of Lovi's wounds. It looked like the kitty had been in a fight with another cat or maybe even a dog, my grandpa had mused while scrutinizing the torn open flesh on Lovi's back.

He kept mewling complainingly all the time while we supplied his injuries and calmed down only after we had left him alone to rest. Later, when I came back to feed him some fresh tuna, I found him curled up into a tight ball, sleeping. He looked really cute with his hands balled into little fists, pulled up close to his face. His chocolate-brown hair had slipped out of its place and was hanging loosely over his eyes, hiding them from my view. I could see, however, that he was twitching and jerking, as if having a nightmare. I wanted to wake him up the way he could see that he was safe, but as soon as my hand made contact with his shoulder, Lovi awoke with a start and hissed terrified. He bit my arm so hard that grandpa had to take me to the doctor to have it stitched up. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, you bastard!" were the first words Lovi said to me.

I marked the day on my calendar. "My first pet (kitty) and my first bad injury", I named it.

And still, I was optimistic and reasoned that after such a bad start, things could only get better. Lovi managed to prove me otherwise every day. He bit and scratched me every time I tried to touch him and hissed as soon as I laid an eye on him. He refused to talk to me and avoided any form of contact altogether by hiding inside grandpa's old and dusty storage room all the time.

It was hard for me to keep on trying, but I wanted to be friends with him really badly. His big green eyes would not get out of my head and I yearned to scratch him behind his cute dark ears. I had been foolish enough to buy him a green ribbon which matched his eyes, but it was quite impossible to tie it around his neck, since a glance was enough to make him angry and violent.

I placed a glass of fresh milk in front of the storage room every morning and a few minutes later it would be empty. I prepared the best meat- and fish-based dishes for him every evening and every time I went to fetch the plates, I would find the food completely gone. Since this was the only connection between the two of us, I felt like I had to strengthen it. My grandpa was proud of my cooking skills improving. "What a good cook you're becoming and this only with thirteen! You're the same as your good, old grandpa." he would exclaim in delight.

One day, I came home later than usual because I had gone out with my best friend Ludwig after school. Lovi was waiting for me in front of the storage room's door when I approached it to deliver dinner. "About time, dammit!" he muttered, and I looked at him with big eyes. I could not believe that he had finally come out of grandpa's storage room and that he had talked to me. Even if the words he had spoken were not exactly the nicest ones he could have, they still kind of struck me. Lovi had been waiting for me and had been upset that I had not been there. Even if it was only about the food, it still meant that he needed me. I laid the plate down in front of him on the floor and stepped back, but I did not leave. Lovi eyed me suspiciously, but seemed to have forgotten about me shortly after, as he crouched down, picked up the fork and started to eat the spaghetti allo scoglio I had cooked for him. I cautiously sat down where I was standing and watched him devour his meal with pleasure.

He waited in front of the storage room's door often after the first time. Just to make sure I did not forget about his meal - nothing else, he would snarl at me. It was obvious that I would bring him food every day, so he must have had started to feel more comfortable around me, was my logical conclusion. The way his long dark tail would stand up straight in the air while he was eating always made me smile and wonder if Lovi would let me touch him someday or if he just hated touches in general. He was such a beautiful young kitten, how had he ended up on the street? How had he ended up starved up and injured? How had he ended up bitter about life already in such a young age?

"Do you have a name?" I once asked him during dinnertime. He glared at me and answered that, yes, he did have a name, but he did not want to be called that way ever again. I decided to give him a name myself, then, so I named him Lovi. "Lovi?" he huffed. "This name sounds like shit." He still listened to it as if it had always been his, when I called him for dinnertime.

Lovi eventually got used to me sitting somewhere around him while he was eating. He did not seem to mind anymore. I tried to act like the little prince in one of my French cousin's books. Day after day, the little prince would sit a bit closer to the fox, until the fox was tamed. That is exactly what I was trying to achieve by daily staying with Lovi during dinner. And he did indeed not seem bothered by our distance becoming shorter every day. Or maybe he did not notice. But it was impossible for him not to notice, when the distance became so short that it would have been enough reaching out with my hand to touch him. Not that I would have ever dared doing it again, after the time he bit me hard enough to send me to the hospital.

Time passed, and my optimism eventually started to crumble. True, he did not mind when I was around him anymore, but he never showed signs of agreement, either. So it came a bit as a surprise when, after a particularly satisfying meal, the kitty made himself comfortable right beside me on the floor and stared up to the ceiling. He leaned against the wall, and slowly, his eyelids slipped down until they covered all of his green irises. I heard it then, for the first time. I heard him purr in contentment. And if I could have, I would have purred, too. I just grinned like an idiot instead.

That evening, I took a pencil and marked the day on my calendar. "The first time Lovi has shown signs that he likes being here with me", I named it. I noticed, then, that almost a year had passed since me and my grandpa had taken Lovi in. And that it was going to be my birthday in just a few weeks.

I turned fourteen. My grandpa bought me oil colors as a birthday present, and I wanted to try them out immediately. I was pretty skilled when it came to drawing. The first subject that came to my mind was Lovi. We had never really talked much until then, well, I had - I talked to him often because it felt strange to sit around him without saying a word. I think by the time he started replying to questions like how he was doing or if he liked the meal I had prepared for him, he knew already everything about me, my life and my dreams. His way of communication consisted mostly of grunts and swearing, but at least he acknowledged me.

I worked up the courage and went to the storage room a few hours before dinnertime. I slowly, very slowly opened the door and peeked inside. I could not see Lovi anywhere, which confused me a little. I went into the room and looked out for him; I looked behind boxes, in the closets, and just as I was about to run to my grandpa crying, because Lovi had disappeared, something jumped at me from behind and I shrieked startled. It was Lovi. He laughed loudly and told me what a loser I was. I stared at him with teary eyes for a while, but eventually giggled awkwardly. I was a little embarrassed because of the girly scream I had not been able to keep for myself, but seeing Lovi laugh was truly something new. He calmed down, caught his breath and then asked me if I had brought him something to eat. I answered that, no, I had not, that he was going to get food later. And then I told him about the oil colors and my intentions to capture him on canvas. He had a skeptical expression on his face, but still followed me to my room when I gestured to come. He glanced around and then sat down onto the floor. His tail nervously jerked back and forth and I smiled at him reassuringly. I showed him the ribbon I had bought for him a long time ago and asked him if he would wear it for me. "No, dammit, I'd look like a female!" he snarled at me. I explained that it was not true, that I would have bought him a pink one if he had been a female. In the end he allowed me to tie it around his neck, but only for the sake of the painting, he explained. I started to outline his features on the linen and noticed how beautiful the kitten had become. He had gained some weight, which made him look much healthier. The injuries had healed a long time ago, but even the scars were barely visible, now. His skin was smooth and tanned, his hair and fur shiny and groomed. I wondered if pets ever felt cold sitting around naked like that. I doubted the fur on his lower abdomen and groin served much as a source of warmness.

I painted a picture of him in just a few hours, and even though he had almost died of boredom, like he had claimed, he looked surprised and flattered when he saw himself on the canvas. "Do I really look like that?" he asked me without cursing, for once. I answered that he looked much better than that in person and he blushed, scratched my hand and ran away muttering something about me being a stupid jerk. The scratch was nothing serious at all; there was barely a mark on my hand. The reaction he had had was interesting, though. I grinned for myself because Lovi had forgotten to take the ribbon off in his hurry to get away.

Even my grandpa was surprised to see Lovi walk around in the house with a green ribbon around the neck, from then on. He did not seem to really want to take it off. It was cute of him and made me happy. It was the proof that he belonged to me, belonged with me.

The kitty seemed to have taken a liking to finding the most absurd places to hide in and scare me out of my wits. He would always laugh at me and remind me of how stupid my face looked when I got a start. I did not like the way he made fun of me, but I liked the way he sought for my closeness when I was making homework or painting for myself. He would silently creep into my room and make himself comfortable on the carpet, then he would watch me work or groom himself. I was glad that he trusted me enough to do that in my presence.

Time kept passing like that and I was quite happy about how things had turned out. Even if Lovi picked on me and generally cursed a bit too much for my liking, he finally talked to me properly and we could have conversations about anything and everything. The only thing he still refused to talk about was his life before he came to live at me and my grandpa's house. I did not insist on that matter, it was already enough having the kitty speaking at all.

A few months after my fifteenth birthday, I had another day to mark on my calendar. This one was even more important than the last one I had marked. I named it "the first day Lovi has let me pet him". I had gone to Ludwig's place and had seen his new pet bunny. Unlike Lovi, Gil loved to be petted and let himself be petted even by strangers like me. It kind of made me sad and envious of my best friend, but I had long since accepted that my kitty was different from any other pet. I did not mind. But I did not mind being proven wrong, either.

That day, I had a bad fever. My grandpa called my teacher and told him that I had the flu and would not come to school for the rest of the week. I lay in bed like a corpse, and when Lovi sneaked into my room I did not even notice, at first. He sat down beside the bed and observed me for a while. He asked me if I was not feeling well, and I explained to him that I was ill. Some minutes passed in which I almost dozed off and then Lovi jumped onto the bed and lay down next to me. He started grooming me. First he stroked back the hair which was sticking to my brow and fixed it, combing through it with his long fingers. Then he licked the side of my face, but grimaced, saying that I tasted of sweat and that I should really groom myself. So he wiped the sweat off my face with his palm instead. But he did not back off, after that. He shifted closer and rubbed his face cutely against my cheek. My heart had already started to beat faster the moment he first touched me, but that gave me the rest. It was so cute. "Get better, you bastard!" he muttered, but the purr in his voice told me more than that. I smiled weakly and raised my hand, but I stopped myself from touching him. I still was a little bit afraid of him biting me like that one infamous time, after all. But he was the one to lean in to my touch and rub his head against my hand. I caressed his head and was amazed by how much his hair felt like silk. I finally got to scratch him behind those cute chocolate ears and he put an arm over me and lay still. He purred contently for a long time and when he stopped, I knew he had fallen asleep. He did not leave my room for the rest of my illness and grandpa had to bring not only my food to my bed, but Lovi's, as well. He, every time, smiled at me meaningfully and I knew he was just as surprised as me about the development of things.

Lovi let me touch him more often after that incident, but he still got angry when I insisted on touching him too much. He would bite or scratch me, then, telling me that I was a bastard for touching him all the time, but other than that, he clearly showed signs of affection for me. He, every now and then, would freely lie down next to me, at night, and sometimes let himself be hold in my arms. He would nudge me with his nose if I was about to fall asleep and force me to pet him some more, give him some good scratches behind those cute ears or a forceful rub on the back. When I studied at my desk, he would tug at my clothes until I would give in and lie down onto the floor, where I would continue to read my books. He would knead my nape, shoulders and back while purring loudly. I once asked my grandpa why a kitty would do that and he answered that kitties did that to their mother when they nursed, but when they got older they mostly did that to show contentment and pleasure. I did not complain; it felt very good and relaxing after all.

It became unsettling only when, after a few months of doing that, Lovi would not only bend over me and massage me, but lie almost on top of me. His fingernails would deepen themselves into my arms or sides while holding me tightly and he would lick and nibble my neck, nape and shoulders. Mostly, he stayed gentle, but sometimes, he would bite me hard, making me cringe in pain. He rubbed himself against me and explained to me that he was just making sure that no other animal in the world would even think about approaching me. It was his scent I realized. His scent was all over me and would not leave me. I was glad that Lovi showed to me that he cared about me, but he was starting to be too possessive. When I tried to talk to him about his behavior, he would just get flustered and tell me to shut the hell up.

I sought for advice from my grandpa's side. He told me that I had spoiled Lovi a little bit too much and that the kitty probably felt like he was the owner of the two of us. He said that I had to be harder on him, for the sake of the both of us. I knew that he was right, that you sometimes had to be harsh with your pets to educate them properly.

But I turned sixteen and nothing changed. I had started to push Lovi away when he tried to "mark me his", but every time, he bit or scratched me and then just continued to do it. And soon, I had another day to mark on my calendar. I was painting on that special day, and like always, did not hear when Lovi crept up on me. I jumped and gasped, but did not scream. I had stopped screaming by then, because I had gotten used to getting startled all the time. He had his arms around my waist and asked me to lie down onto the floor. I tried to free myself from the embrace and told him that I was painting and wanted to be left alone. I heard him mewl warningly, and when I continued to pull on his forearms to remove them from around my midsection, he forced me down onto the floor himself and pushed me against it. Then, he lowered himself onto me. It was not right at all, the way he behaved towards me. A kitty was not supposed to dominate his owner like that and yet, there was nothing I could do against it. Lovi had grown to be taller and much stronger than me. When I struggled, it just made things worse. So I kept still and mentally prepared myself for whatever Lovi intended to do to me. He turned me around, put an arm over me and rubbed his head against my jaw. I sighed and caressed his dark locks. Even though everything always had to work the way he wanted, it still flattered me that he needed my attention that much. He purred and slowly moved against me. His tail curled itself around my leg and my heart started to beat slightly faster. I felt strange, a little hot and a little nervous. His nose grazed my neck and he sucked at my collarbone. My hand slipped off his head and closed around his upper arm instead. He tugged at my skin with his teeth, gently. I tried to push him away, because I was feeling more and more flustered, and he growled lowly, clawing my hip with his nails. "Lovi, no! Bad kitty!" I scolded him, but he ignored me and clenched his fist around my hair, holding my head still. I looked up at him, confused and hurt, and he gazed down at me with half-lidded eyes. I do not even know where he had learned to do that, but apparently, in that moment, he thought that kissing me was a good idea. "My first kiss", I named the day.

At night, I lay in bed and cried. My first kiss taken and by whom? By my pet. A cat. And despite my misery, I could not stop thinking about the way his soft lips had felt against mine and the way his purring had echoed inside my mouth. When Lovi jumped onto my bed and crawled underneath the covers to snuggle up against me, I could not be angry at him. He licked my tear-streaked cheek and nuzzled my nose with his own, telling me in whispers to stop crying. I could not be angry at him, because, yes, he was the one who had kissed me, but it was not his fault if I had liked it.

I affronted Lovi's brutal display of affection in another way, from then on. I welcomed it. And his behavior changed, too. The moment he noticed that I did not fight against his touches anymore, he became much gentler and stopped forcing me to do things altogether. When I was doing homework or painting, he would just sit somewhere close by and wait until I was done. Because of his strangely good attitude I would always praise him by coddling him with caresses and kisses. He would get flustered every time and tell me what a stupid jerk I was, but I could clearly see that he was pleased.

Even if owner and pet did not kiss, I still felt like this was the closest to a normal human-kitty relationship the two of us had ever gotten. But it did not last for long, of course.

It was spring, and I had freshly turned seventeen. Lovi had gone out like he sometimes did when the weather was good. I passed the afternoon painting, and when he stepped into my room hours later, when the sun had already started to set, I shrieked in shock. He was in a similar state my grandpa found him in on the street, years ago. One of his eyes was swollen and purple, his lip was split and blood was running down his chin, neck and torso. His green ribbon was soaked and in shreds. There were deep bite marks and scratches all over his tanned skin. I immediately lunged at him and asked him what had happened, but he just snapped at me and told me that he was fine. Something was off, I could feel it. I asked again and he said that he had gotten into a fight with some stray cats because they had come too close to his territory for his liking - nothing else. "You have to stop getting into trouble or you might get yourself killed!" I reproved him, because I was really upset and worried.

I gasped in surprise when he roughly kissed me. I could taste the blood on him and it repulsed me almost to the point of gagging. He pulled away, but instead of backing off, he flung me against the wall behind me and pinned me against it. He kissed me again, this time more demanding and more aggressively than before, and I could taste the blood not only on his lips, but also on his tongue. I tried to push him away, because I felt awkward with that situation and because I thought that it was really important that his injuries were supplied immediately. In contrast to me, he did not seem to be bothered by them at all and just continued to devour my mouth, jaw and neck.

And then, he breathed something in my ear which would change our relationship for the umpteenth time. And this time, for good. He told me that he wanted us to mate, the way his scent would be on me permanently. I was shocked, to say the least. I stuttered something about the impossibility of a relationship of that kind between owner and pet and that a cat should never ever even ask for something like that. His only reaction to my attempt at reasoning was biting me hard in the neck. I yelped in pain and tried to push him away. He flipped me around and my face hit the wall, hard. My cheekbone started to throb painfully, the pain spread over my whole face. He began grinding against me from behind and I felt my eyes filling up with tears. A moment later, I was sobbing desperately. This was not what I wanted. I did not want to "mate". At least not like that, I caught myself thinking. I felt his grip on me loosen and his body detach from mine. Relieved, but also a little confused, I slowly turned around and gazed at him. He looked terrible. Not only was he injured and dirty, he had a heart-breaking expression on his face, too, then.

"Maybe you just should have let your grandfather bring me to the vet that time. I bet that being put to sleep would have been less painful than being pushed away all the time. I love you more than any human being could ever love you, and yet, you don't want me because I'm the way I am. What is it, is it my ears? Is it because of them that you don't want me? Or because of my tail? Should I rip them off?"

He started yanking at his ears, and I cried even harder. I knew Lovi tended to say stupid things he sometimes did not even mean when he was upset, but that went beyond angry foolishness. I did care about him. I did love him. But a human was not supposed to be with a kitty. My feelings for him could not possibly turn into more than normal affection for a pet. What kind of owner would I be if I gave in to his requests? Could he not understand that?

I begged him to stop and reached out to remove his hands from his ears, but he continued to yank at them. Blood was running down the side of his face and I did the only thing I thought would help, at that moment. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my lips against his, softly. He was taken aback by the tenderness, but leaned in to me almost instantly. His trembling hands let go of his ears and cupped my face instead. I could feel his heart pounding against my ribs and I'm pretty sure he could feel mine, too. I caressed his head in a soothing manner and he eventually calmed down. Even after we stopped kissing, I still held him tightly against myself and petted his beautiful dark hair. I heard myself whisper words of comfort, but I was not even aware I was doing it. "I love you just the way you are" or "don't say something like that ever again" made up the most part of them.

Later, we both sat on my bed in silence. His green ribbon - discarded. Blood and dirt - washed away, from the both of us. Lovi sat in front of me, while I cleansed and supplied the fang marks on his right shoulder and shoulder blade. He flinched every now and then, but other than that, he did not show any signs of discomfort. I knew those wounds could not possibly have been afflicted to him by other cats. Cats did not leave behind that kind of injuries. Why would he lie to me about it, though? When I was done I leaned my forehead against his back and inhaled his scent deeply. I realized that it actually would not bother me that much to carry that scent around with me all the time.

Every time he left, Lovi would come home with new wounds. At some point, I just forbade him to go outside. He did not seem to mind having to stay in the house, but he did seem to mind when I left it. To keep him somehow satisfied, I tried to cook particularly tasty dishes for him and coddled him with all the affection I had to offer. I would pet his head, hug him tightly, kiss his forehead, nose, cheeks. And kiss him. He would sneak into my bed at night and then we would kiss deeply, taking our respective breaths away. It was during kisses like those that my hands would start wandering on their own. They would go on journeys of never-ending discoveries; through forests of silky hair, across valleys of soft skin and over hills of well-shaped muscles. This is the way I discovered how attractive Lovi actually was. And he, he did not hesitate to return the affections just as tenderly, which surprised me a little. He would rub my chest, sides and back through my pajama shirt with slow, circling motions. He would sometimes play with one of my nipples while gently licking and nibbling my neck. It made me shudder; it made me feel hot, anxious and needy. It made me feel in a way I had never felt before. And soon, I did not mind anymore if one of his hands slipped underneath my night clothes and explored still untouched territory. The purring against my ear was enough to push all the worries away and let me just enjoy the moment for what it truly was: the picture of two persons in love. I knew we were by then, but it did not change the fact that it was not quite alright to be so. It still did not stop me from allowing Lovi to do anything and everything he wanted to me. Our exploring hands eventually turned into claiming hands and our tasting mouths eventually turned into starving mouths.

It did not come as a surprise when, one night, I finally lay half-naked under him while he showered my body with bittersweet kisses and caresses. He massaged my hips and thighs in a way which would have made me relax even against my own will and the result was me, opening myself up to him. And he, touching me in places I had barely spent enough time exploring myself. His warm, smooth skin pressed against mine; I could feel all of him. His whole presence was overwhelming. I could not get my thoughts straight… I was completely at his mercy. He stroked me through my shorts and the hot pants he breathed against my damp temple were distraction enough to limit my surprise to a sharp gasp when he decided to get rid of them. Suddenly, his hand was around me and he was whispering in my ear to touch him, too. Trembling, I complied. My palm lay flat on his taut abdomen and slid downwards… until my fingers brushed his fur. I wrapped them around him uncertainly, as well. And then, we pleasured each other. And it felt alright to do so despite it being wrong.

It became routine, somehow. We were really intimate and I wondered if this was already considered "mating" to him. I knew through my older French cousin, who had recently told me about sexual matters, that even two men could have sex as in intercourse. But I could not imagine myself and Lovi doing something like that. Would it not hurt? Would he force me to be the one on the bottom? I was glad Lovi seemed to be satisfied with what we did right then, because I did not feel ready to take this whole "mating"-business any further.

I was walking home from gymnasium, one day, as I stumbled into an injured dog. Even though he was rather large in size, I could clearly see that he was still young. I crouched down and noticed that he had similar injuries to the ones Lovi had come home with the last few times he had left the house. The poor puppy was bleeding from a wound on his neck. I made cooing noises while reaching out to gently pet his blond hair and light-brown, folded ears. He was a really beautiful puppy. He opened his blue eyes and looked at me, before starting to weakly wag his tail. "Hey, hey, I can protect you…! Because I'm a guard dog, a real one…!" he chirped, even though his voice was hoarse and barely louder than a whisper. He had a black leather-collar around his neck and I mused that the puppy must have run away from his owner. Or have gotten lost. I flinched startled as he suddenly started snarling threateningly and struggled to stand up. But he was not menacing me. It was a wolf. A wolf had crept out of the bushes and trees on the border of the road and I wondered how the heck it had gotten that near to the village. He was really huge, even if a little emaciated. He had beautiful silver hair, two elegant, pointy ears sticking out of it, while his long bushy tail moved mesmerizingly slow behind him. He was smiling innocently, but I knew better than to trust wild wolves. I was afraid, but I did not want the poor puppy to get hurt even worse. So I pulled him behind me and thought hastily about what to do. My grandpa had once told me what to do in case something like that ever happened, but I could not remember. Did I have to be quiet or loud to shoo away a wolf? The puppy continued to snarl and yell at the wolf to go away, but the wolf was approaching, looking unfazed.

"Hey, you smell like that strange cat!" the wolf suddenly said, sniffling the air. He grimaced and I felt a shudder run down my spine. I realized then that this wolf was probably the reason Lovi did not like it when I went outside. I curled my fingers around the puppy's hand and dragged him with me as I slowly made my way down the road. But the wolf followed me. He actually did not look like he wanted to hurt me, but Lovi's and the puppy's injuries were the proof that he could if he wanted. When I noticed that the wolf just would not stop following me, I came to a halt and started waving my hand in a shooing motion, but it did not bother him in the slightest. Other wolves crept out of the bushes. I froze. Two other females. Three other males. The most of them approached me only shyly and looking even a bit scared, but one of the females practically lunged at me and I stumbled backwards, uttering a cry. The puppy yanked his hand out of my grasp and tackled her to the ground before she could actually touch me. A fight started and I could hear only snarls, growls and whimpers. Blood splattered on the floor and I could only watch in horror as the brave little dog struggled to keep the overhand. "Make her stop, make her stop!" I continued to scream over and over again. The wolf which had appeared first, alpha wolf I guessed, indeed jumped between the two of them and forced them to separate, snarling loudly himself.

"We don't want any trouble." he growled to the puppy and forced him down onto the ground, holding him still. "My pack is starved up, we need food." he added. My heart skipped a beat. I realized that with the work in progress of cutting down a part of the forest, many animals must have fled or died. And the consequences were right in front of me – starving wolves attacking human beings. Had Lovi been trying to protect me all the time when he had gone outside and returned with those injuries…?

I wondered if this was the way I was going to die – mauled by wolves… and I thought of Lovi and my grandpa… I could not help but start to cry; I was so scared. I pleaded for my life… I told them I would give them food myself if they spared me. But they did not seem to be listening as they cautiously approached me. … And I could not even blame them… they were starved up and distressed because of the great change in their habitat. It still did not make it any better when the female which had already attacked me before, decided to have the first taste of my flesh and jumped at me. I heard the puppy howl desperately to leave me alone, but my screaming drowned out every other noise as her fangs deepened themselves into my shoulder. Suddenly, there were wolves all around me, holding me down by my limbs, trying to get a piece of me themselves. It was the end, I thought.

But he came to rescue me, just like the hero of one of those incredibly unrealistic and yet irresistibly enthralling movies. And even though he was nothing but a lone kitty, he did not hesitate to challenge an entire pack of wolves to save me. He was practically sacrificing himself for my sake… and yet, in that moment, I did not even think about the danger he was getting himself into… and screamed for him to help me, crying hysterically. He lunged at the wolf with his teeth in my shoulder and forcefully bit her neck, clawing her maned upper body with his fingernails. The attention was not on me anymore, but on him. Even the alpha wolf let go of the puppy to throw himself onto Lovi. Freed from the huge wolf's clutches, the puppy climbed to his feet and joined Lovi in the fight. It was a horrible and terrifying scenario and at the same time disturbingly fascinating… I had never seen this side of Lovi before. I had seen him angry, yes… I had seen him hiss, growl and strike out to warn me or express his irritation. But I had never seen him fight like that. His muscles were all tensed up, looking double as developed as they usually did. His ears were resting low against his head, his tail was bushy and jerking menacingly back and forth. It was the most horrible and most beautiful thing I had ever seen. It was the picture of my beloved one fighting, risking his life to protect me.

It was a hopeless battle. I watched as Lovi was overpowered by two of the male wolves… and I watched how the puppy was hauled back, whimpering softly, as he fell onto the ground, staying there motionless.

"Retire." the alpha wolf commanded, surprising us all. They had definitely won… and yet… "We shouldn't have attacked him in the first place. He obviously belongs to that cat, at least he smells like him. And that cat has been warning us for days to leave him alone. Let's look for another prey." The few wolves which still had the strength to complain, did so. They argued that I was already weakened and an easy prey, that they had not eaten for days and maybe would not find something else for another few. But the alpha wolf was honorable and therefore determined. They left, without further problems.

And someone was gently, lovingly licking my exposed and injured shoulder. His warm, soft tongue lapped at the deep fang marks while a bloodied and slightly trembling hand tried to enclose around mine. Lovi was battered… and still thought about me first. It hurt so much in my chest that even the throbbing in my shoulder died out for a moment. Right then, I realized that I did not give a heck about the wrongness of our relationship. I loved him. And he was right – no human could ever love me as much as he did. I would not give up our happiness for something as mundane as morals. Life was too short and too unpredictable to do so if what had just happened was not proof enough.

I squeezed his hand reassuringly. I pulled him closer, I held him tightly against myself, I kissed him tenderly on the lips. I told him how much I loved him, how much I cared about him. I told him that nobody and nothing would ever change that. I thanked him for saving my life. I apologized for his injuries. I do not know anymore what else I said; I was completely out of my mind. I just know that I was suddenly free of every doubt and ready to give up everything just to stay with Lovi.

My grandpa took me to the hospital. He was upset and on the verge of tears. He had been shocked to hear that I had been attacked by wolves and had thanked God that I was still alive. I continued to babble things like "Lovi needs help…" or "the puppy… the puppy was passed out…", but my grandpa just held my hand and assured me that they were both fine. They stitched up my shoulder. It reminded me of the time Lovi had bitten me. The injury he had inflicted on me had been nothing compared to this… but the doctor said that I was going to be fine. The scratches on the rest of my body were not concerning, he added, after having examined them, as well.

I returned home to find Lovi waiting in the hallway of our house's entrance, still in the state he had been in after the fight. He lunged at me and wrapped his arms around me. My grandpa observed us in silence for a while and I was afraid he was going to express himself negatively about the way Lovi was holding me tightly against him. But he just walked up to us and raised his hand to pat Lovi's head. "You're a really good cat, Lovi." he spoke softly, with affection and gratitude in his eyes. I sighed in relief and felt warmness washing over me. Even Lovi offered a little smile.

The puppy was lying in a corner of the living room and sleeping on his side. He was still covered in blood and whimpering softly in his sleep. When I saw him, my eyes narrowed in pity. He had tried so hard to protect me, even though I was not his owner. I thought that his owner, whoever it might be, was a really lucky person to have a dog as brave as him. Together with my grandpa, we supplied the injuries of the both of them. Lovi was not very happy about our guest. He continued to glare at the dog, to hiss at him to get the fuck out of his house. And the poor puppy just wagged his tail in response.

We called the puppy's owner, using the phone number attached to his collar. It was an English boy around my age. When my grandpa told him that we were keeping his dog in our house because we had found him injured in the woods, he sounded surprisingly calm. He answered that he would come pick him up the next day and that he was sorry for the disturbance. Lovi was not very pleased about having to bear with the dog for another while. Every time the puppy approached him, he would hiss warningly and raise his hand in a very clear gesture. And the puppy would sit down onto the ground and ask him why he did not want to play. "Because you're a damn bastard, that's why!" Lovi would answer and the dog would argue that it was not true at all, that he originated from a pure American breed and that he was a hero at that. It was cute and funny to watch them quarrel, but I would always step in when the situation seemed to heat up.

When the English boy Arthur, as he introduced himself, came to pick up the puppy the next day, I felt a little sad. He was so sweet and wanted to play all the time. I had enjoyed rubbing his tummy and going walkies with him. But seeing him being beside himself with joy at the sight of his owner, made my heart flutter with happiness, too. Arthur scolded him for having run away, told him that he was a stupid and bad dog and that he hated him, but he had tears in his eyes while he said all of this and let himself be tackled to the ground without resisting. It was a touching scenario which filled my chest with warm feelings. I wished them well and life returned to its ordinariness, even if I had to wear a string around my neck to keep my arm up against my stomach. I had been told that I should not move it to much as the wound needed to be spared.

Lovi was relieved to have the dog out of his way. I had the impression that he was jealous about me paying the puppy too much attention. As soon as he was gone, he did not give me one second for myself. He insisted so much on touching me and kissing me all the time that I was afraid grandpa would find out about us. But I have to admit that that idea did not scare me as much as it used to scare me before.

At night, he almost devoured me despite the both of us being injured. I realized quickly that Lovi's behavior went beyond jealousy. I tried to calm him down and asked him what was wrong, but he would not answer. He cooled off only after we had both reached climax and lay in each other's arms, breathing heavily from the effort. I kissed his hair and caressed his sweaty nape and back and he leaned in to me, tightening the embrace. He started licking my neck in a grooming manner and even tried to lick my wound through the bandages until I told him to stop, squirming and giggling. I was so happy right then that telling him how much I loved him just did not seem enough. Our lips joined in a lazy and tender kiss and when they separated, Lovi replied that he loved me way too much, as well, and that this was the reason I must never have anybody else. I was confused and asked him why I would want that and why he was so concerned about it. That night, he told me everything. He told me about the way his first owner had given him away after having brought home another kitty, claiming that that one was much gentler and more suitable as a pet. He told me about the way another family had taken him in and how they had owned a dog which had not been ready to share his territory. He told me, how he had constantly been picked on by him, how he had been denied his own food and water. He told me how he had repetitiously been attacked and how it had turned out one day when his family had been out of the house. The day, my grandpa found him on the street.

And I cried. I sincerely cried. Lovi had not deserved to go through all of this in his short life. He was the most gentle and most affectionate pet somebody could ever wish for, in my eyes. It had taken a long time to bring out his true side, but he was everything I had ever wanted and I could not understand how his first owner had been heartless enough to give him away. And the matter with the dog… my poor kitty had had to suffer so many injuries. He had been hurt even to protect me… It was just too much. I wanted Lovi to be happy. I wanted him to be happy for the rest of his life. And when he practically begged me if we could mate as soon as my injury got better, I did not hesitate to answer yes. And I meant it, with all my heart.

But as the day came I had to have the stitches taken out of my shoulder, I was much, o so much more nervous than I had been when I had agreed to it. What was it going to be like? Was it going to hurt? Did Lovi know how it worked? I returned home and I could see the anticipation written all over his face. It was disconcerting and strangely thrilling at the same time to experience the kitty so inpatient. I painted that day, because painting helped me a lot when I was not feeling alright. And Lovi respected my privacy and showed up only at dinnertime to eat the food I had cooked for him. I sat on the ground and watched him eat from across the room, just like I used to do when he was still new in the house. His wounds had healed up, as well, and maybe it was just me, but he looked like he had grown another tad. He was completely shaped now. The most beautiful cat I had ever seen in my whole life. Actually, the most beautiful living being altogether I had ever seen in my life. His body was lithe and yet muscular in the right places. His face delicate and manly at the same time. I felt the nervousness slowly crumble as I realized in embarrassment that my mouth was watering. He shot a glance at me with a predatory look on his face which made my skin crawl. And I found myself more than willing to play the role of the prey.

So I lay in bed at night, wearing only my shorts, and waited for him to sneak into my room. After a short while which appeared like an eternity to me, he silently entered it and cautiously approached me. He climbed onto the bed and crawled over to me, lying down next to me. I slightly turned around to face him better, adjusted the cushions under my head and then pushed a hand underneath my cheek, continuing to gaze at him. We exchanged an intense look and he carefully leaned in and kissed me. And it was a slow and passionate kiss, one of those that made me melt like margarine. His fingers ran through my hair, his thumb stroked my cheekbone and temple. I reached out and linked my arms behind his neck, pulling him closer to me. And for a while, it was just like always. Expect that I was thinking about what was to come all the time. He touched my burning body, I touched his. We shared tender caresses and kisses. We stroked each other… and I winced when the fingers of his free hand brushed my opening. I anxiously grasped his upper arms and buried my face in the crook of his neck. I was already tense then, I failed to figure out how something like that could ever work. He stopped massaging my manhood and just pulled me closer, the way our crotches pressed against each other. He licked his fingers and touched me there again… rubbing the tender spot gently with his fingertips. I was nervous and embarrassed, especially when he started putting more pressure on it. I inhaled sharply as he started to push one of them in. It felt so incredibly weird, it did not feel good at all. … Until he buckled it against a spot inside me which made me softly gasp in pleasure. My trembling hands on his upper arms relaxed and wandered over his damp skin to cling to his back instead. He nudged the side of my face with his nose and I shyly looked up at him. He kissed me gently, comfortingly. And while the tip of his tongue repeatedly grazed mine, he continued to stroke that special spot in me and soon I did not mind anymore that his lone finger had been joined by a second one and that he was actually stretching me rather widely without me really noticing. He carefully pulled them out of me and whispered in my ear to turn on my back. Shaking, I did so. I lay on my back and he massaged my thigh and lifted it a little, bringing it up to his chest as he lined himself up against my backside. I closed my eyes, trying to calm down my breathing and my furiously beating heart, and felt him moistening me up well. And then, I felt him pushing against me. The head of his member slipped in and it hurt. It hurt despite him being slow and careful. He pushed completely inside and then gave me a moment to catch my breath. His tail was curling around itself, expressing tension and impatience. He rubbed the underside of my thigh soothingly and leaned in to purr against my ear. He nibbled my earlobe and nuzzled my neck with his nose, before gently biting it. His body was burning up, I noticed. No, both of our bodies were burning up. I felt hot and strangely aroused, now that the pain was starting to fade away. I wrapped a trembling arm around his neck and turned my head to hungrily kiss him on the lips. And he started to move. Holding my thigh tightly against his chest, he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, and so forth. We kissed. We touched. We made love. And I became his, for good.

I turned eighteen. Lovi and I had started sleeping together on a regular basis after the first time. I was really happy with him, but the fact that Ludwig had moved out of our village to go live near the city, made me sad. We had grown apart in the last few years… but he still meant very much to me, so I was really shocked to hear that his parents had given away Gil. When I had asked him why, he had only answered that they thought the bunny was not being treated properly. This whole story made me think very much about the relationship I had to Lovi and how it would also be considered inappropriate if found out by the others. I knew I had to do something about this whole matter, so I decided to tell my grandpa myself. If he was not going to accept it, I would be old enough to move out, even if it would break my heart to leave my grandpa alone. I could not let something come in between Lovi and me. I would not let Lovi suffer again.

We sat at the table in the evening and ate the pasta we had cooked together. I did not know how to start, I felt so uncomfortable. I started by asking him what he thought of people having an unusually intimate relationship with their pets and he did not answer for a long time, eyeing me like he already knew why I was asking. "It's not alright to force your pet into doing something like that. People who do this, should be punished." he said. I felt my blood freezing and took a few forkfuls of my pasta, trying to cover up how upset I was. "… What if the pet initiates it? What if he wants it, as well? Would it still be wrong then?" I asked softly. "Animals get carried away by their instincts. They sometimes initiate things or play along only because it's their nature telling them to do so." My eyes welled up with tears and I tried to wipe them away without my grandpa noticing. I considered not telling him anymore, I just would not have had the heart to really leave if he did not accept the relationship I had to my kitty. But I felt a light weight on my thigh and looked down to find Lovi's arm and head resting on my lap and him looking up at me encouragingly. I took a deep breath and just told my grandpa. And he just stared at me and replied that he knew. I was shocked – if he had known all along why had he never talked to me about it? He told me that he had known for a long time and that it had been difficult to decide what to do. At first, he had wanted to give Lovi away because he had not liked Lovi's aggressive and dominant behavior towards me. But then, I had started to look so happy together with him that he had not been able to separate us. He said that it was not alright having a more than owner-pet relationship with a cat, but that he could see how happy it made us to be together. And then he joked that Lovi was much better-looking and more reliable than most of the other persons out there anyway and we laughed. He said that he would keep it a secret and that I was always going to be his beloved little grandson, no matter who I decided to love and be with.

My grandpa is the best grandpa in the whole wide world. I started studying arts and kept living in his house only for that reason alone. I just could not believe how blessed with luck I was. I had a family which supported me in everything I did. I had a pet, a best friend, a lover, who was always there for me, looking after me, protecting me and offering me all of his love despite being the little grumpy guy he was.

One sunny day, we were sitting on the short grass of grandpa's garden together. We had both grown so much; we had turned into young adults. It was not only a juvenile thing anymore; I knew this was a thing which was going to last for the rest of our lives. And this idea released butterflies in my tummy and made me grin stupidly. "Lovi, do you remember when grandpa brought you home and you bit my arm so hard that I had to have it stitched up?" I asked him while scrutinizing fondly the pearly white scar on my underarm. He got flustered and told me to shut up, that it had been my own fault for waking him up. I giggled and his expression softened, as well. He shifted slightly closer to me and leaned in, brushing my ear with his warm and soft lips. "The truth is I decided that you were going to belong to me already back then and therefore marked you mine for the rest of your life." he whispered. A pleasant shiver ran down my spine and suddenly the scar seemed to have a much bigger meaning than before, even if I knew that Lovi had just made that line up.

I realized that I had not written all the beautiful and important things which had happened between Lovi and me in my calendar since a long time ago. But it did not matter. Every day spent with him would be worth marking in my calendar, every hour, every minute, every second. And even though I did not mark the days in my calendar anymore – they were marked deep within my heart.

And I knew there were a lot more to come, even more beautiful and joyful than the already passed ones.

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**Thanks again for reading! Did you like how it turned out? Would you like it if I wrote another story in this style? Because I was thinking about writing a puppy!Alfred x Arthur story, as well.**

**Please let me know what you think!**

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**UPDATE: I've drawn something for the people, who had trouble imagining Lovino. Maybe it can help you a little, even if I think the own idea is always the best. Go[here](http://darkness173.deviantart.com/art/Hetalia-kitty-Romano-Itacest-227368349).  
**

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr [darkness173](http://www.darkness173.tumblr.com/) or [reflections173](http://www.reflections173.tumblr.com/) ♥


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